The University of Christian Grey
by thefactionlessauthor
Summary: Anastasia Steele, soon to be English major graduate, just has one problem. Professor Grey decides he can help her out. [Rated M for language and later scenes]


**Disclaimer:** the characters of Fifty Shades of Grey belong to E.L. James. The original content, ideas, and intellectual properties of this story are owned by me, _thefactionlessauthor_. **This story is rated M for future language and sexual content**.

 **A/N: For those of you that read my other stories, this is a far stretch from Divergent lol. I know, trust me! However, I am a lover of almost all of the big trilogies/series out there. And I'm always looking for new inspiration. I hope you enjoy!**

 _The University of Christian Grey  
_ _ **Chapter 1**_

"...Miss Steele?"

I stop my furious scribbling in my notebook and look up into cold, grey eyes staring at me from the front of the lecture hall. My skin flushes as I feel the twenty-four other pairs of eyes on me. And then, sensing my nerves, their eyes flicker back up to the professor, waiting for him to say something else. He stands still and he does not look away.

My best friend, Kate, is seated next to me. She is just as still and silent as the rest of the class. The scowl is deep in the young professor's features.

"Miss Steele, I expect you to be paying attention," he says, his voice is ice cold, "Not doodling your time away during my lesson." If I were not paralyzed by fear, I would tell him he is going too fast for me to understand it—though, something tells me he would appreciate that even less than my mindless scribbling.

The other graduates exchanged tense, waiting looks.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't find the words. I am afraid to make him any more angry with me. I feel like a deer, in the sight of the hunter, and looking for an escape.

With a sharp, impatient sigh, Professor Grey leans on the edge of his large, dark-stained oak desk and folds his arms over his chest. "Since Miss Steele has not been paying the lesson any ounce of attention, can someone answer my question?"

A tall, pageant-esque, blonde beauty in the front row nearly jumps out of her seat as she raises her hand high. All eyes come back to me, some with looks of pity and others with disapproving stares. I feel my skin heat up, and I try to sink in my seat some.

As he gestures to her, the blonde is all too eager to respond. Her voice flows like she has practiced in front of a mirror, her entire life, for just this moment. "Tess was ashamed her virginity was ripped away from her, and afraid Angel would find her reduced because of it... and it's discovered that she was right. He makes it clear that Tess's impurity revolts him."

I realize the lesson is in regards to the fourth and fifth phases of the _Tess of the D'Urberville_ novels. We are discussing the readings he has assigned to us over the past two weeks of classes. If I had been paying attention, I would have known how to answer his question—however, I have already read these books. It should have been easy if he had only repeated his question.

I guess he doesn't like to repeat himself.

Professor Grey is still scowling as she finishes her explanation, but he seems pleased with her answer. He turns away without a word and begins to write on the board again.

Kate clears her throat beside me, giving me a look, she mouths, "Are you okay?"

I nod once, releasing a shaky breath. The clock on the wall is twenty minutes behind; I certainly hope he is not going by it. I don't think I could take any extra time in this class today. He turns, briefly—perhaps thinking the same as me. He presses the button on his phone, sitting silently atop the desk, and then he rolls his eyes.

"Since we've wasted a bit of time today, read phases six and seven. We will discuss it next Friday, and I am expecting the first draft of your term papers on Monday morning. That is all." The room erupts with movement; students scrambling to shove their books and papers into their bags.

"...Miss Steele," I hear. I look up. "See me in my office."

Kate gives me a worried look. He packs up his things, and exits, leaving us behind. "Do you want me to go with you?" She asks.

"No," I sigh, "I don't think he'd appreciate it. And besides, I don't want you to be late for your next class."

"Are you sure?" Kate hesitates, looking between me and the door, as if expecting him to come back and tell me I am taking too long. I probably am.

"Yes, I'll be fine," I say with conviction, "he's probably just going to scold me, or something."

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Kate tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know where you're going right? His office is all the way down at the end, third floor."

"I do. I will," I promise. She gives me a quick hug and then scurries off to her next class. I finish packing up my belongings and find the stairwell down to the third floor of the campus. I have been along these halls over the last three—soon to be four—years, seeking help during office hours. But this time I am not seeking out help. I am looking for any excuse not to find his office.

I do, eventually. Kate wasn't kidding, it's hidden all the way down at the end. _Sheesh, how did he get here so fast?_ His door is only open halfway, I can hear him rummaging through papers and drawers as I muster up the courage outside the door. I suck in a deep breath, and knock twice. _Stillness_. His voice rings out, low, "Come in."

I push the door open more and step in, nearly tripping over my own feet out of nerves. He acknowledges my clumsiness with a grim expression. I clear my throat, "You wanted to see me?" I try to sound vague. He sees right through it.

"Sit," he orders. I do immediately, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer. _So impatient_. For a few moments he doesn't say a word; I can feel him watching me but I keep my eyes down at my notebook, playing with a strip of paper stuck in the spiral. "Do you understand what I teach? Do you know so much about it, that the information I am providing you is trivial?"

"Uhh... I have some questions..." I offer lamely. His expression does not change, except for the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I thought you might," he says. He stands, and suddenly I feel even smaller. "Is my class boring you?"

"No!" I answer immediately, "No, not at all, sir. I love _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_."

"So you've read it before?" He asks.

"Yes."

"Participation is a large percentage of your grade, almost thirty percent, Miss Steele," he warns, stepping around the desk. For a second, I panic, and then he walks over to the bookcase. His fingers, long and thin, brush over titles until he stops at one. "What would you prefer to read?"

 _He's giving me a choice? Is this a trick?_

"I... I'm sorry, what?" I ask, watching as he turns back to face me. He doesn't look as stern as he did before, but he regards my confusion with distaste, "I don't understand... I would be learning something completely different from the class...?"

"Well, technically, I can't teach you material you already know," he says, matter-of-factly, "What would be the purpose of my class? I suppose you could always withdraw from it..."

"I need it to graduate," I say, quietly.

"I thought so," he deadpans. _Why else am I here?_ I bite my lip. His eyes flicker down my face, and then back up to my eyes, "What are your plans after you graduate, Miss Steele?"

"I'm just trying to make it through my finals right now, professor."

"What is your major?"

"English literature," I answer.

"Do you have a job now?" _Why is he asking me these questions?_ I feel like he has given me whiplash; a change of heart from his crass attitude earlier.

"Um, yes," I nod, "I work at a coffee shop, not too far from here." He smirks to himself, his finger traces along his bottom lip in thought. _Does that amuse him, in some way?_

"What about a paid internship?" He asks, "for experience purposes."

This catches my attention, "Where?"

"Here, for my office?" He offers like it is obvious, "Between teaching, and my business, as you can tell it's a bit unorganized. I could write you a letter of recommendation at the end of the semester." I look around and I almost laugh—if this is unorganized, he must be some sort of control freak. To my eyes, it doesn't look as though a paperclip is out of place.

I clear my throat, "I'm sorry... I thought... for the incident in class today... I thought I was being punished..." I say, quietly. I see his lips twitch, like he finds what I am saying humorous.

"My intentions were to rightfully do so," he admits, crossing his arms over his chest, "but I admit, you have impressed me." _I have? Holy crap. How did that happen?_ "If you're interested, you will come back here tomorrow morning before your first class, we can discuss the internship then. Do you have any questions?" _Tons_. _How did this go from scolding my actions, to a job offer?_ I shake my head. _Too many to ask tonight..._

"I have class at 9:30," I say. I need time to process, my mind is reeling, "I'll have questions then."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at 8, then," he says, wistfully.

 _ **xxxxx**_

Kate and I live in a small community of duplex apartments, just outside of the campus. I walk home alone; Kate is already there, sitting at the counter with her laptop in front of her. She is working on her term paper, and by the looks of it, the first draft has turned into her final draft. She looks up when I shut the door behind me.

"How did it go?" She asks, anxiously.

"Weird," I immediately say, tossing my book bag down by the door. I slump down into the armchair, rubbing my eyes to soothe my forming headache.

"What did he say?"

"He offered me an internship," I peek through my fingers at Kate. Her shocked expression tells me she is just as confused as I am, "To help around his office."

"Really?" She laughs a little, "I thought he was going to discuss what happened in class today."

"He did," I sigh, "I've already read the material... but I need his class to graduate, he said if I... do intern _things_ around his office, he'll write me a letter of recommendation."

"That's... _odd_ ," Kate says, "So what are you going to do about the class?"

"I don't know." She joins my side, propping herself up on the armrest. "He told me to go back to his office tomorrow morning, before my first class."

"Well that's actually kind of incredible..." she muses, more to herself. "Unbelievable..."

"Tell me about it," I retort, shaking my head. "I don't even believe it myself."

"You should do it," she says, then, "A letter of recommendation is huge! Especially where this one is coming from, Ana."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I know Grey is a tough teacher—a lot of graduates have complained his class is a bit too rigorous, with a heavy work load.

"Christian Grey?" Kate says, giving me an expectant look. I shake my head. She rolls her eyes, "Grey Enterprises? Oh my gosh, he may just be a professor to you, but he's one of the youngest! He's a multibillionaire!"

"Why is he teaching in Vancouver, then?" I scowl.

She shrugs, "Maybe you can ask him that."

"This is crazy. _All_ of this is crazy." I stand and head for the kitchen, my stomach rumbling. I look for something to eat, or make. Kate returns to her laptop, her term paper forgotten as she searches Google for a list of his achievements.

"He never brought any of this up in class," I say, matter-of-factly. Kate gives me a smirk.

"It's public knowledge, Ana," she states, typing away, "Maybe he's just modest." I snort.

"We are talking about the same person, right?" I join her side, looking over her shoulder at the list of results.

"No, you're talking about Professor Grey—strict and cold. I'm talking about _the_ Christian Grey—young billionaire and CEO of his own enterprise. If you intern there—job opportunities will flock to you!"

"You just tried to call him modest."

"As far as his achievements," Kate rolls her eyes, "he hasn't said a word about himself in class, other than he's only been teaching for three semesters. I did an article welcoming him to the campus when he first arrived. I've done my research." _She was born to be a journalist, that's for sure_.

"Maybe you should intern for him," I retort. Kate laughs.

"I'd fit in, I'm sure," she says, "he only hires blondes."

"Then why does he think I have a shot?" She shrugs.

"Don't know, but who cares? This is huge, Ana! If you pass this up, I would kiss your diploma goodbye now."

"You say that like he would ruin my life."

"He is _the_ Christian Grey," Kate jokes again, smug, "He's made so much possible for himself. What isn't he capable of?"

"Immortality?" I suggest, rolling my eyes, "Jeez, you make him seem like a god or something!"

"I think his name has already achieved immortality, don't you think?" She turns her laptop to me again, up comes thousands of articles with his name bolded or underlined. _Ugh, I hate when Kate is Miss-Know-It-All_.

"Why bother becoming a professor?" I ask, more to myself than aloud. Kate's fingers fly across the keyboard as she types something else in.

"Maybe he's just looking for something different—that would be an amazing article if I could just get an interview with him."

"It couldn't be that hard, could it?"

Kate frowns, "I've emailed him over a hundred times, all of them were left unanswered. Probably unopened, too. Grey doesn't do interviews for just anybody, trust me. His assistant doesn't even allow requests for interviews."

"You would think the man was made of gold," I say ruefully.

"He must lay on sheets of gold, or sit upon a gold throne in his spare time," Kate jokes, cracking herself up, "but seriously, Grey is a hard man to get ahold of. I can't believe you were offered an internship by the man _himself_ , let alone have him as a professor."

"My head is spinning at the thought."

"How are you so calm and condescending about all of this?" She asks incredulously.

"Maybe because he's just human? He sounds like a pompous asshole, if you ask me." Though I can't talk too much shit about him; he did build himself an empire from the ground up after all. That is quite impressive, and highly unachievable for most.

"Just think about it, Ana. Okay?"

"Okay."

And I do think more about the internship later that night, without much interruption from Kate.

 _ **xxxxx**_

She is just finishing up her term paper the next morning when I am getting up. I dress in a light blue cardigan and a white, floral lace dress. I opt for my soft blue flats, black tights, and my hair held back. Kate gives me a once-over, her scrutinizing gaze makes me feel underdressed. I have never done an internship—I don't even know where to begin.

"Do I look okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," Kate shrugs, casually. I sigh.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," I say.

"You'll be fine, Ana. I doubt Grey will think you're dressed inappropriately. But we will have to go shopping and find you some more sophisticated clothes."

"I'm going to be late if I don't leave now," I say, the clock reading just after 7:30. I am supposed to be meeting Professor Grey before my first class, and that starts at 9:30. I rush out the door, grabbing my keys and my raincoat. Wanda, my old VW Beetle, starts up sturdy, but rough.

I arrive at the campus around 8, trudging through the rain to get inside, and when I do I find myself wandering the halls searching for Grey's office. I remember Kate's directions and follow them further down the hall until I find the right room.

I check my phone, 8:13. I hope Grey can be forgiving of my tardiness, the rain was coming down hard and there was hardly anywhere to park. _Maybe I should think of a better excuse_...

I knock once, my touch almost too light. I am about to knock again when the door swings open, and I am staring into piercing silver eyes.

"Miss Steele," he greets, his voice crisp like cold air.

"Professor," I acknowledge, stepping into the room as he stands aside. The room is warm.

"You're late," he says.

"I apologize, the weather was a bit unexpected," I lie. I see his lip twitch.

"I'll let it go for now. We have business to attend to," he decides, motioning for me to take a seat. I sit down on the couch in the corner of the room, setting my bag down at my feet. "I want to know your questions."

"I guess my first question would be why have you offered me such a position?" I ask. He gives me a perplexed look, his lip twitches into a smile but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Simple," he waves his hand, "You need my class and you won't graduate without me. Since I am the only professor available in this course, you can't drop it and expect to graduate on time. I need an assistant here—my assistant at my office, Andrea, can't travel here as often as I would need her to."

"What would I be doing as your assistant?" I ask wearily. I imagine he would have me fetch his coffees or take his phone calls. I wonder how his real assistant puts up with his mood swings— _oh god, could I handle that on a daily basis?_

"I don't expect you to be my servant," Grey rolls his eyes as though he read my mind, "I would have you schedule appointments, whether they are conferences or student appointments. I would have you grade assignments while I'm away on business trips. My office would be open to you at all times, for whatever purpose you need it for."

"I don't know how to grade other students' work," I admit quietly.

"I would show you what I expect," he reassures me, pressing his clasped fingers to his lips in thought. "I expect you to have some idea of this job, but I would show you my ways of doing things."

"What if I decide I don't want this?"

"I can't force you to take this opportunity," He states, "however, you are not really in the position to turn it down, given the circumstances." _He is right_.

"When do I start?" I ask. Grey smiles.


End file.
